Agony on Skorgijl
by Mychele O'Carrik of Clonmel
Summary: When Will was on Skorgijl,Slagor wants revenge for a certain "incident" What follows is pure agony for Will.Rated for violence and angst.Why do we love hurting Will? compainion to True Hero,but you don't have to read it 1st.
1. Chapter 1

Agony on Skorgijl

Erak Starfollower gripped Slagor's upper arm fiercely.

"If you touch one hair of his head, or the girl, I'll slaughter you like the pig you are."

Slagor couldn't help but swallow nervously. If there was one thing you could count on, it was that Jarl Erak would keep his word. With that, Erak released him roughly and left to see to repairing his ship. She hadn't suffered anything serious, no more than the journey usually inflicted on his beloved _Wolfwind._

Angrily, Slagor stormed off.

"Stupid slave brat. I will have my revenge. I _will._" He growled under his breath. Then, a brilliantly devious idea occurred to him.

"Ha. It will kill the brat to do it, but I know he will. He'll have no choice. And Erak will never know..."

Panting, Will ran up the long, frigid beach a third time. A small, nagging voice constantly pestered him.

_It's no use, you're wasting your time._

"I can't give up! For Evan- for the princess' sake."

Returning to his starting point, he spied Evanlyn coming to meet him, over a rocky bluff. She had continually come to meet him after his exercise ever since the day she'd told him her true identity; he guessed it was a sort of peace offering. Will stiffened uneasily; something wasn't right with the scene, but he couldn't pin down the feeling.

"Evanlyn, get over here quickly!"

She bristled indignantly.

"It's one thing for those seawolves to order me around, but now you Will?"

"Please, just hurr-"

His urgent plea was cut off as a large Skandian jumped out from behind the bluff, grabbing her. He clamped on meaty hand over her mouth, and the other pinned down her arms. Will recognized him as a member of Slagor's crew.

"Hey! We're under Jarl Erak's protection! Let her go!"

The Skandian grinned unpleasantly.

"Shuddup boy."

Fists clenched, Will never had a chance to find out what he might've done, because a rough hand seized him from behind, just as Evanlyn had been. He tried to call out, and kicked savagely; but to no avail. Sacks were thrown over their heads, and they were borne, jolting and thumping, to whence they knew not. Will had a sinking feeling what this was about, but dared not form the frightening thought into words in his head.

Eventually, they were tossed on the ground, hard stones digging painfully into their scarcely clothed skin. The sacks were torn from their heads, and Will took a moment to look around.

They were in a sort of depression, surrounded on all sides by rock walls but one; a treacherous path out of the clearing. They sat on a beach, the frothing waves slapping the pebbled shore.

And they were surrounded by seawolves.

Slagor stepped to the front.

"Time t' pay fer yer incilince slave." He sneered.

"Yer gonna be sorry you ever laid eyes on Skirl Slagor."

Will knew that getting angry would not help anyone; even so, he was hard put to suppress the anger he felt welling up in him, despite his belittling fear of what would happen.

"Skirl Slagor, as you know, we are under Jarl Erak's protection; harming us means breaking the Skandian law. I am sure you are smart enough to realize this."

He said evenly. But, that only served to enrage the perpetually intoxicated Skirl.

"Don't give me that ye scum! I can see right through your little ploy. We're gonna have some fun with ye."

Will subconsciously placed himself between Evanlyn and Slagor, crouching in a ready position. Seeing the defiant action, Slagor scowled nastily and dealt Will a backhanded blow to the side of his head. Reeling, Will's vision exploded into stars, vicious pain lancing through his head.

"Oh, don't ye worry about the pretty lass, my men won't harm a hair of her head." Said Slagor with a wicked leer.

"But _you_ will."

Horrified, Will looked at Evanlyn. Her face was set in an expression of shock. Trembling, Will lifted his chin.

"And if I don't?"

Slagor sneered.

"Every time you refuse, you'll get a blow. Maybe a clout 'crost the head, maybe a lash of this whip."

He pulled a nasty leather scourge from his belt, heavy and knotted. Will couldn't hold back his gasp of fear. He turned to Evanlyn, stricken with guilt at the decision he was faced with. As if bolstering the odds against the hapless boy, Slagor gestured to a giant, burly Skandian.

"If you are holding back, Jrengar will be the one dealing the lash."

_So much as he wants to play hero, the boy will choose his own well-being over hers. None would do otherwise._

He laughed ghastily. They were caught now! He knew the mental anguish would be worse than anything else. Not that Slagor would hesitate to beat him afterwards, for good measure.

Will crumpled, tormenting over his choices. If he beat Evanlyn, it would be far less injury than the terrifying seawolf could deal Will; but he couldn't betray his King's daughter.

_No,_ he corrected. _my friend._

None the less, he was no use to her beaten beyond strength, he knew. With a pleading look at Evanlyn, he stood and walked to her, facing the girl sorrowfully. He read the steely look in her eyes.

_Fine. I don't blame you. You're saving your skin. Of course._

Will raised his hand, and she refused to flinch at the blow she knew was coming. Will mildly laid his hand on her shoulder. His eyes said it all. She was instantly full of remorse and shame at what she'd expected of him.

"Trust me." Was all he said, softly. He turned to the angry Skandians.

"You can't make me." He said, with a resolute air.

Enraged, Slagor socked him mightily in the eye, giving him what would be a heck of a black eye. Will actually flew off the ground, landing a meter away; he groaned and clutched his eye.

"Get the whelp off his feet!" Bellowed Slagor. Two men came and stripped off his cloak. Then they dragged him, each gripping an arm in a hefty fist, and carried him to Jrengar. By sheer force, they ripped the back of his shirt open, exposing his scrawny shoulders to the elements. Jrengar flexed and snapped the whip, before swinging it swiftly, the leather slapping against Will's skin.

"Ahh!" Will yelled in agony. The strokes felt like lashes of fire laid across his back, searing with pain. Then a second blow came. It felt as bad as the first, fire replacing the icy chill of the wind.

Evanlyn looked on, helpless to help her selfless friend. His tortured expression was killing her.

They dropped Will to the ground, shivering and sore. He groped painfully on the stones, gritting against the unbelievable pain.

"Now will ye beat her?" Sneered Slagor.

Fighting off the suffering, Will stood slowly, wincing as the lash marks formed painful welts. He once again faced the big man, shaking his head "No".

Smiling evilly, Slagor nodded to Jrengar, who pushed Will down on his face and lashed him three heavy handed strokes this time. Will cried out at each one, his face contorting in misery. The leather thongs finally tore his flesh, pulling bits of skin with it, and sending blood trickling down his back. Will writhed on the ground, striving to get on his feet again. Jrengar shove his booted foot into the small of Will's back, wrenching an agonized yell from the boy. Tears ran down his face.

Evanlyn watched in horror, frustration boiling in her. Was there nothing she could do?

"Will!" She called.

The Skandian restraining her tried to silence her.

"Shuddup girl!"

But Slagor waved him off, gesturing for her to continue. He'd been waiting for this...

"Will, just do what they say. Stop being a hero, it's alright! I can take it."

Dragging himself up after Jrengar removed his foot, Will wiped blood from his cheek where a sharp stone had dug into it. He stubbornly shook his head.

"I won't do it; I refuse to harm you. Don't you see, that's exactly what they want."

Truth be told, Will wanted nothing more than to do it, just to get out of this pain! He'd thought he knew what pain was, but now that he truly encountered it in all it's cruelty and agony, he never wanted to feel it again. But he thought of Halt. He imagined how Halt wouldn't, perhaps, downright disapprove, and he'd be enraged at this maltreatment, but he also knew there'd be a silent disappointment: disappointment that Will hadn't been able to hold up to an important principle, no matter what the circumstances. No matter who told him it was alright. Halt didn't expect him to be a hero, unbeatable; but to act like a hero, selfless. To do what is right.

He remembered that day, after he killed the Kalkara (how long ago it seemed!), when he had that reflection about what it meant to be a true hero; how afterwards he learned that not only had he been right in guessing how his father died, but the man being saved was Halt himself!

All this passed through his head in a moment, and he knew he could not, would not, harm Evanlyn.

Evanlyn read that stubbornness in his face.

"You don't need to be the hero Will!" She said again. Still, he only shook his head.

Slagor was furious! This whelp, this mere _boy _dared defy him! Enraged, he hauled Will up by the collar, and slammed him up against the sharp rock walls. Will yelled between his teeth. The sharp stone dug into his wounds, splitting them open excruciatingly. Were they even_ human_? Throwing him down in disgust, Slagor stormed off to their impromptu camp, snarling a command behind him.

"Jrengar! Ten lashes on him! Do not spare your arm!"

Jrengar may have been one of Slagor's crew, but he wasn't totally heartless.

"That sounds like much Skirl. That'll kill 'im."

Furiously, Slagor snatched the scourge himself.

"Give it 'ere!"

He beat savagely on Will, who covered his head with his arms, cowering in abject misery. After ten lashes, Slagor left at last, the rest of the seawolves following eventually. As soon as she was free, Evanlyn ran to Will. He lay moaning and sobbing. Gasping, she gingerly reached out to his back. It was oozing pus and blood, the skin hanging in strips. He could barely move. Clinging desperately to her skirt, Will sobbed over and over.

"Don't go, don't go. It hurts so bad. Halt, why don't you come?"

Gently, she got Will to stand, and helped him hobble, wincingly, to the relative shelter of the rock wall. She took off the blanket she'd wrapped around herself that morning, and made Will lie on it. She carefully pulled the soaked edges of his shirt away from the lacerations, a tear rolling down her cheek.

_How could I have doubted him for a second?_

**A/N Hmm, more Will angst! I've been wanting to do something like this for a while, to go more into what Will and Evanlyn experienced as slaves; in the book it's too lightly handled. Will would've been changed a lot after that, but he goes on as normal! So, this is what I came up with. I wanted it to be a oneshot, but it's too darn long! I'll make it a threeshot! For rizzles this time! Three chaps tops. Just something I wanted to get out.**

**P.S Microsoft-idiot still isn't working, so pardon my typos and spilling airers. :P Oh yeah, I very loosely based this off of a reference from Phineas McCheeser's story, Scarred. Enjoy! (if one can call angst enjoyable...)**


	2. In Which Evanlyn Feels Terrible

Chap 2

Will lived in a world of Pain. His back and shoulders were pain, his head was pain, the air was pain, his mind was pain: everything he'd ever known seemed to shatter. Before he'd been relatively sure of his safety, despite the circumstances; even in the midst of their enslavement, he'd subconsciously felt that nothing would hurt him, that nothing would change him; Halt would find them, and they'd all be fine.

That dream shattered. Halt had not come, and here he was, sunk lower than low.

_Halt, you failed me. You said you never would. You said you would always find me. You lied._

The thought was vile to his mind. Halt was his mentor. Halt didn't just fail. But in his despair and confusion, the acid thought ran riot; a hatred that went against everything he was, everything he loved, coursed through him. It was pure torture. Slagor could never have hoped to make such an impression with his little scheme.

_Halt lied. He won't come, he abandoned you. He took your father's life, now yours._

"No! No, he didn't!" He said blurrily to himself. Beside him, Evanlyn's presence was like a vague shadow.

"Will, I'm sorry, they won't give me any clean water to wash your back. I'm so sorry, but this will hurt a lot."

She tore off a strip of her thick underskirt, and soaked it in the briny seawater. As carefully as possible, she sponged Will's back, only dabbing, and not rubbing, so that the skin wouldn't tear any more. The stinging water made Will cry out, and grip the blanket tightly. The sight tore at Evanlyn's heart; she hadn't known Will long, but she'd come to know a brave, resourceful boy who never gave in. Here was that boy, reduced to a whining, bloodied mess.

"Will, I'm so sorry. I'm such a pig, I should've listened when you warned me."

The fresh pain pulled Will out of his semi-delirium, and he pondered what she said. She was right in a way; if she'd listened to him, they might not have been caught. Might. But there had still been that chance. Exhausted, mentally and bodily, as he was, he had no energy to tell her otherwise to her statement. He didn't have it in him just then. She interpreted his silence as agreement. Even though she'd just said it herself, the realization crushed her.

_Some help I've been. He's too dang good! Why does he have to play hero so much?_

She saw his cloak, where the Skandians had dropped it, and ran to get it. When she arrived to it, a sudden gust of wind blew it away. Muttering some un-ladylike words, she pursued. Just as she leapt upon it triumphantly, two large boots came into view. Nervously, she followed the boots up to the meaty face of Jrengar. He was holding something in his hand.

"Here lass. Ye'll be needing bandages for the boy. And a shirt."

So saying, he handed her a long wrap of cloth, and a clean shirt. It looked a bit big, but far too small for any Skandian. She supposed it was a random find among their raid stores. As Erak had said when he found the dress she was wearing, "you never know what you might find below deck."

Coldly, she stood and crossed her arms.

"And why the sudden kindness, now that you've beaten him within an inch of consciousness?"

Jrengar shrugged.

"Slagor doesn't want Erak to know, so clean 'im up and we'll send ye on yer way."

Despite her fear of the man, Evanlyn bristled indignantly.

"Oh, doesn't want Erak to know, does he? What makes you think we won't tell him?"

"Sorry to say, it wasn't my idea ye know, but Slagor says to tell the boy that if Erak finds out about this, he'll be dealing ye the same as the boy got."

Evanlyn's blood ran cold.

"I-I see." Wordlessly, she took the bandages and shirt, and went back to Will.

"Will, I-I have something to tell you."

She fiddled nervously. _Why am I so weak? I shouldn't tell him. Let them beat me!_

"Jrengar, h-he said Slagor will have me beaten the same as you if Erak finds out. I don't care! We should tell him."

Will groaned. He wanted to tell Erak, so Slagor would be punished, so he would pay for this pain! He didn't need another burden. But once again, his conscience forbade it.

_Why do you have to nag me? Why me? Why is this happening to me?_

He didn't dare trust his voice at that moment, so he stayed silent.

_You began this, might as well finish._

"We won't tell him; but I doubt if he won't find out anyway. This black eye is a dead giveaway. Now can I have my cloak? It's freezing!"

"Yes, but let me bandage you up first. The cloak will just rub on it."

Nodding, Will sat up painfully. Facing his back to her, he removed what was left of his shirt so that she could wrap the bandage around him. He leaned his elbows on his knees, the slightest movement causing him to wince as the flesh tore. As gently as possible, Evanlyn wound the cloth around his chest and back, tucking it smoothly and tightly. Will grimaced and hissed between his teeth as the rough cloth made contact with his raw skin.

"As bad as it is now, it'll be terrible in the morning, when it's all stiffened up. I don't know how I'll sleep."

Abruptly, Evanlyn said:

"Why did you do it?"

Taken aback, Will glanced at her over his shoulder. She was studiously avoiding his eyes, keeping her own on his toned back, torn as it was. Blushing, Will remembered that he was shirtless, and faced back to the front.

"I didn't want to. Believe me, I really didn't want to. It was all I could do to make myself say no."

"But why? Why did you have to say no? Even after I interrupted and told you to just do it."

Will grinned wryly.

"You're not princess _here_ Evanlyn."

Any other time, she would've smacked him. Pausing for a moment, Will continued.

"I knew that you wouldn't be half as hurt if I hit you as _I _am from them hitting_ me_; but, I imagined what Halt would think, what my father would think. I'm sure they would understand, but, nonetheless, there would be a silent, unsaid disappointment. They wouldn't blame me, but it would still be there. I-I remembered a certain day after the incident with the Kalkara."

He told her briefly about it, a little reluctantly. It_ was _rather personal, after all.

"I wanted to live up to that ideal."

Evanlyn shook her head, not understanding.

"You're not a hero; you're a _boy_! Why can't you act like one?"

"I know I'm nothing of a hero, but I have to give all that I can. That is what makes heroes what they are; being selfless."  
Finally, she thought she understood, a little.

_I'm going to remember that. I'll try to live up to a hero's standards. I won't be selfish ever again!_

Wordlessly, She finished wrapping him up, and handed him the shirt. Turning away, she gave him some privacy.

"Alright, you can turn around. _Now_ can I have my cloak?"

She faced back to him, and impulsively hugged him. When he gasped slightly, she remembered his lacerated back. She flushed red.

"S-sorry Will."

"S'all right." Me muttered.

_Girls. I'll never understand them._

"And Will?"

Shrugging the cloak on gingerly, Will looked up.

"Thanks."

**A/N There's chap 2! Sorry for the awkward bits, but I wanted to be realistic. Funny thing, when I first wrote the sentence: **"She was studiously avoiding his eyes, keeping her own on his toned back, torn as it was."**, I accidentally wrote: "**She was studiously avoiding his eyes, keeping her own on his toned back, ripped as it was." **Then I read it and was like- "oh...".XD**

**I won't write about whether or not Erak finds out, so let's just say he noticed the black eye, confronts Slagor, who tells him Will tripped on his run, and a rock bruised him. Erak doesn't believe it, but unless he has Skandian witnesses against Slagor, he can't take a slave's word over a Skirl and have him punished. So, he says nothing to Will about it. But, I'll add, if he **_**had**_** seen Will's back, it would've been to Gorlog with the stupid law and Erak would've dealt with it himself.;) Finally, done rambling. Surprised if anyone reads this all.:P Now for an epilogue... And R&R!**


	3. Epiclog

Epilogue

A few days after King Duncan had publically thanked Will for his services to the country, and his daughter, newly Knighted Horace and resumed Ranger's apprentice Will took a ride. They stopped at a stream, and Horace decided to go for a swim, to cool off from the hot midday ride.

"I'm going to take a swim. Are you going to join me?"

Will averted his eyes, not looking Horace in the face.

"Er, no thanks Horace."

To say that Horace was shocked would be understating it.

"No? Wh- What?"

"Look, I said no. Is that such a big deal?" Said Will irritably.

"I guess not, but why? You always used to like swimming!"

Horace was sitting on the bank in his trousers, feet dangling in the water as he queried his friend.

"I just don't want to. You go ahead Horace."

But Horace wouldn't let the matter drop. He had a feeling something was wrong; of course he knew that Will would need some time to get back to normal, but what did not swimming have to do with it?

"What's wrong Will? Why are you acting so…"

Will flared up.

"So what? Weird? Strange? _Different?"_

"N-no, I didn't mean…"

"Well I _am_ different! Got a problem with it?"

Now Horace was getting angry. What had he done to get Will so worked up? He was just trying to help!

"Alright! Be that way! I don't care if you want to melt away there in the sun. Pardon me for being concerned! I shouldn't have bothered about such a hothead."

He turned away in a huff. Somehow, the prospect of a swim didn't seem so appealing anymore.

Will was about to retort, but he caught himself, realizing what he was saying. With an huge effort, Will called to Horace.

"I- Horace! Wait, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me." He said, ashamed. Horace was still a bit mad, but he turned back to his friend.

"Well, then why don't you come swimming?"

"I just can't Horace! Don't you understand? Just leave me be, please."

"Fine."

Horace jumped in the creek, the cold water gradually soothing his temper.

Will sighed. How was he going to make amends? He couldn't go swimming, he couldn't let Horace see…

In a moment of inspiration, Will took off his cloak, tunic, belt, and other things, until he was, like Horace, in his trousers. But he left his linen shirt on.

"Alright, I'll come in if you insist." He called, not bothering to wait and see if Horace heard him. Jumping in, he felt a moment of panic as the coldness brought up unpleasant memories, but he pushed away the thought and swam over to Horace.

"Will, you came in! But why are you…"

"Don't ask. I'm in the water, aren't I?"

Horace was slightly sheepish.

"Yeah, about that…sorry for insisting so much; I should've just let it go. Halt said you might need time…" He trailed off uncomfortably.

Will shrugged it off.

"No matter. Now are we gonna discuss me all day, or are we gonna have some fun?" A sparkle returned to Will's eyes, and the boys paddled off, laughing and dunking eachother merrily.

Hours later, they got out of the creek, exhausted by their sport. Heaving himself up onto the bank, Will leaned forward propping his elbows on his knees. Coming up beside him, their quarrel forgotten, Horace stretched out lazily, drying himself in the sun. Tall trees framed the clearing, and a few high clouds drifted in the milky sky. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, sending down emerald beams on the two boys. Breathing deeply, Horace's face set in a pleased grin. The sun was so warm on his skin, the grass tickling and soft, the warm breeze driving off the chill of the water; everything was right in the world.

That is…What had all that with Will been about? He'd never known his friend to be so reluctant about something as trivial as a swim. And how he snapped at Horace; he'd gotten so angry over nothing! The tall young warrior glanced at Will, who was still sitting with his elbows propped on his knees, looking down into the rippling water. The sun shone onto his back, causing his wet shirt to become transparent. Horace's eyes widened at what he saw. Just then, Will looked back at Horace grinningly, apparently about to relate something humorous. The grin swiftly vanished when he saw the look of horror on Horace's face.

Guessing what had happened, Will quickly snatched up his jerkin***** nearby, and pulled it on quickly.

"It's nothing." He mumbled.

"Will- what- how- what is that?" Stuttered Horace. How do you talk about such things?

"It's my back. What else?." Said Will dryly, facing away. Horace shook his head.

"It's not nothing! What happened? How did that…" He'd only caught a glimpse through the wet linen, but it was enough for Horace to guess what it was. But how did it happen? When? Sitting up resolutely, Horace knelt behind Will, placing his hands on the shoulders of his jerkin.

"Will, let me see." He said softly. Twisting out of Horace's grip violently, Will stood up, backing away.

"No, there's nothing to see. You don't need to know, stop it!" He voice got louder and louder, backing away frantically, memories surging in. Memories that were still fresh enough to haunt him, now that the excitement of the battle for Skandia was over. Confused and pained, Horace stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a long stride. He grabbed Will's arm. Will jerked back as if bitten.

"Don't touch me!" He screamed; stumbling on a rock, he fell down. Tug reared up, neighing with worry. He butted Horace away, causing him to fall down also. Horace's mind whirled. What was that all about? What was happening to Will? The latter lay breathing hard. Slowly, he pushed himself up until he was sitting. Drawing his knees up, he crossed his arms over them, slouching his head down wearily.

"Will?"

No response. Not a single noise: no sobbing, sighing, yelling, nothing. Horace stood up, walked over to Will, and crouched in front of him.

"Will, I need to see. What did they do to you?"

Looking up with dead eyes, Will wordlessly shrugged off the jerkin and resumed his previous posture. Taking that as assent, Horace walked around to Will's back, and pulled the wet shirt up and over Will's head. A terrible sight greeted him: Will's entire back and shoulders were covered in a lattice of scars. Criss-crossing lashes, long, white and ugly. Many had ridges on the sides, as if where the skin had torn raggedly. Some were still red and sore looking, some were short and deep. Some looked like thin whip-marks, others like heavy blows of a stick. Appalled, Horace couldn't tear his eyes away from the horrible sight. Against his will, his hand reached out and his fingers traced the marks. Trailing his eyes after his large hand, Horace breathed in sharply. The scars across Will's shoulders were the worst; the deepest, reddest, longest. The shoulders expanded as Will drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Will, I-I didn't know. That's why you didn't want to go swimming? You could've told me! I would understand. Were you afraid I wouldn't be able to handle it?"

"No." Said Will softly.

"I was afraid _I_ wouldn't be able to handle it. I was right, I suppose."

"How did it happen?" Will stiffened. Horace could've kicked himself for being so stupid. It was none of his business! Will surely wouldn't want to talk about it.

"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have- you don't have to…" Will interrupted him.

"It's fine. I should probably get it off my chest."

Pausing for a moment, Will told Horace the whole story, from the knife throwing incident to their kidnapping by Slagor. He spared no details. Afterwards, Horace was speechless for several moments.

"You did that? How could you be so bra- "

Will cut him off.

"Before you go praising me, I wasn't brave. I was terrified. I spent hours regretting it afterwards. Well, at least my body regretted it. It was in those moments that I knew what a weakling I was. If I truly was brave, I wouldn't have hesitated. It would've hurt just as much, but I would be stronger, less doubtful."

Horace shook his head.

"No, you can't tell me that what you did wasn't bravery, wasn't courage. It takes guts and conviction to do something like that. Does King Duncan know what you did for Cassie?"

Will glanced back at him, a small grin on his face.

"Cassie? On nickname terms with the princess are we?"

Horace blushed at his gaffe, but turned the conversation back to Will.

"But does he know?"

"No. I made her promise not to tell him. Though she sure wanted to, lemme tell ya."

"Why ever didn't you let her? You deserve to be personally thanked for your loyalty to the King's family!"

"I don't want all the fuss. Like I said, it wasn't heroics. It was very hard. I don't deserve credit for simply doing the right thing. Besides, I couldn't stand for Halt to know; he'd blame himself hugely. And he'd worry so much."

"Hmph. There was a time when I wouldn't have thought Halt capable of something like worry." Said Horace with a laugh.

"But that time is long gone," he mused.

Will took his shirt off the rest of the way, straightening it with a _snap!_ He spread it in the sun to dry.

"No sense in bothering with this wet thing now that you know. But there's one more thing I want you to see."

Turning around, he pointed to a mark beneath his collar bone. Two knotted ropes, bound in a figure-eight knot. It symbolized the bondage of a slave, which was until death, and it symbolized the lash that all slaves bore.

"They branded me. To show who I belonged to." He said bitterly.

"This was Ragnak's personal device. It hurt like hellfire when they did it."

Horace's fingers traced the mark. A mark that Will would bear for the rest of his life.

"That's- that's- how could they _do_ that?" Said Horace, rage in his voice. Will shrugged.

"What's done is done. I'll have to live with it."

They continued to talk for a while, eventually drifting to other, more pleasant subjects. They dressed and got ready to ride back. Will stopped Horace in passing.

"Thanks Horace. I needed to talk. I feel much better about it now. I'm glad you got me to tell you about it, if it did take some force." Said Will wryly.

"And I'm glad you told me about it. I _was_ rather worried about how you'd been acting."

He pulled Will into an embrace, and they pounded eachother's backs as young men do. Although Horace more like timidly patted Will's back; he wasn't sure if the wounds still hurt or not. But he had one more question:

"Will? There's something I need to know. Did they brand Cassandra too?" He said, careful not to use her nickname this time.

"What, no Cassie now? No, they didn't as far as I know. They only branded the yard slaves, as they had a greater chance of escaping."

"Oh. Thanks then."

They mounted and rode back to the castle lightheartedly.

* * *

From a distance, a hooded figure watched.

"He didn't tell me…."

A slow, rare tear slid down Halt's cheek.

*** A jerkin is a type of long vest that sometimes belts at the waist, or draws close with laces.**

* * *

**A/N I came up with this for the epilogue, because, well, there's waaay too many stories with Halt finding out about scars on Will, or fluff with them two, so I put in Horace!:D Everybody loves him, you gotta admit.:3 Plus, this way I could sorta make an argument for tension. Plz review, and thank you to everyone who reviewed! You guys rock!X3 Coffee all around! **


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